


A New, Unwanted Experience.

by runoutofwit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runoutofwit/pseuds/runoutofwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is dying, and it's all Dean's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New, Unwanted Experience.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this at three in morning because I couldn't find any smut/fluff prompts. Oops. All mistakes are my fault; it has not been beta'd.

Cas is dying, and it’s all Dean’s fault. He should have known better. Who brings a fallen angel into battle, when that angel doesn’t even know how to shoot a gun and can’t do anything more than ten-cent magic tricks? It was reckless. It was stupid. But Dean wasn’t thinking when he allowed Cas to come on a hunt.

Blue eyes wander aimlessly across the canvas of night hanging above them. They are glossy and pained, searching for something that is impossible to find. Dean is on his knees next to him, hands on his head as he tries to clear it and assess the damage. A stab wound in the shoulder, another in the stomach. He’s bleeding, and angels aren’t _supposed_ to _bleed_ , dammit.

“Dean!” The sharp voice snaps him out of his paralyzing panic, and he looks up to see his brother.

It was supposed to be an easy job. It was supposed to just be a couple run-of-the-mill demons. But Cas had forgotten that he wasn’t an Angel of the Lord anymore. He’d forgotten that demons were no longer afraid of him. He’d forgotten that he couldn’t banish them with just a touch.

“S-sammy… Help me. We need to get him in the car.” Dean manages to spit out.

The youngest Winchester nods, and together they lift Cas off the ground. The fallen angel gives a loud cry of pain, hands clasping at his wounded stomach. Dean can see tears in the man’s eyes, and he yells at his brother to hurry. They load Castiel into the backseat of the Impala, and Sam drives. Dean sits with his friend and does everything he can to stop the bleeding. There aren’t any towels within reach, so the man removes his shirt and presses it against the worst slice. Cas howls in pain and writhes beneath Dean, trying to get away from his touch, because it hurtsso badand he can’t recall such an intense pain since he pulled Dean from Hell.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Calm down, Cas. You’re alright. You’re gonna be fine.” It’s the only thing he can do. Dean whispers the words into the angel’s ear, trying not to panic himself, because Cas isdyingright in front of him.

Cerulean eyes stare at him and never pull away. The human can’t help but think that he’s never seen terror like this in the other’s face. Even when facing death, Castiel had always seemed ready and strong. Spread across the backseat with a shirt clutched to his abdomen, his strength is gone. The only thing he can do is whimper at every bump in the road that jostles his hand or causes his shoulder to move the wrong way. Dean continues to whisper to him, going so far as to even grab his hand and try to grant the quickly paling man some comfort.

That’s when he realizes that this is the first time the other has ever felt real pain — real,humanpain — and that’s what kills him. Cas had always been able to patch himself up. He had always been able to mojo himself a new set of lungs. Once, it was practically impossible to hurt him, because his Grace wouldn’t allow it. Now, that blinding blue magic is all but gone, and the wounds are all too real and all too gory.

They get back to the motel and somehow manage to sneak Cas inside. He’s placed on one of the beds, and the green-eyed Winchester is immediately at his side. Sam works on repairing the shoulder; Dean works on the stomach. The angel starts screaming, though, and guilt strikes Dean like a tidal wave. They give their patient a bottle of whiskey to nurse in an attempt to ease his pain, and he sucks it down in a matter of seconds. They manage to get through the rest of their makeshift surgery with only stunted cries and loud gasps.

Castiel will live, but his recovery will be slow. Once the angel is patched up, Dean sits beside his bed the whole night. At some point before falling asleep, Cas grabs the man’s hand and holds it tightly. Their clasped hands rest on the bed, and even after the fallen angel has fallen asleep, Dean does not try to pull away.

Moss-colored eyes concentrate on the relaxed face of a man who had once been an ancient, all-powerful, celestial being. He decides that he never wants to experience that fear again. He never wants Cas to be hurt or scream from pain. So, he decides that he will make sure it won’thappen again. He gives Castiel’s palm a gentle squeeze to affirm his unspoken promise.

 


End file.
